


Citizen Cold Vs. The Flash

by Wolves_of_Innistrad



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Evil!Barry, Good!Len, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolves_of_Innistrad/pseuds/Wolves_of_Innistrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len wakes up in an unfamiliar place, but soon meets his nemesis the Flash.  Somethign si wrong though, the Flash knows him, but he acts like he doesn't know what he's done, the horrors he's responsbile for.  Well, whatever is going on, Citizen Cold will do all he can to protect Central City from the Flash's nefarious deeds.</p><p>Or, A metahuman version of Len who has been engrossed in a war with a non-meta Evil!Barry Allen wakes up in Normal Barry's timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citizen Cold Vs. The Flash

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for day one of Coldflash week, Time Travel/Alternate Universe.
> 
> Sorry this is a WIP, I know I'm bad at getting them done, but I didn't get enough time to finish anything before the week started and wanted to at least post something for now. I promise there will be more to come! Adn I'll go back and edit this chapter a bit as well, need to clean up a few things I missed.

Len woke up slowly, disoriented and disturbingly wet. Drops of water slid past his cheeks and for a moment he wondered if he’d been crying in his sleep before he felt another drip smack his forehead. Blinking his eyes open he stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

The roof above him was dank, browner than dirt and slowly leaking down upon him like the first moments of a summer storm. Casting his gaze to the right he saw not his own room, but what appeared to be a grimy apartment, small and dilapidated, the picture of squalor and urban decay.

Pinching his nose, Len rubbed his eyes, attempting to sit up and finding himself nauseated in the extreme. The bed creaked, an awful grating sound of rusted frames and long worn out springs. Once steady, world no longer spinning and threatening to projectile vomit, he took another look at his surroundings.

It was certainly no place he’d seen before, none that he’d enter into willingly anyway. Sure, he’d hidden out from the Flash from time to time, but even a seedy motel couldn’t compare to the level of filth this place had going. Finally back online, his brain picked up the facts as quickly as he could.

Firstly, he was not in his own bed, his own house, or anywhere remotely familiar, at least form within this room. The carpet was frayed all over, but there were worn tracks from the bed to what appeared to be a small, equally rank seeming kitchen. The blinds, if you could still call them that with half of them missing, filtered the sun in a strange crosshatch that left him wondering why anyone would choose to stay here, least of all him. And finally, for some inexplicable reason, he was wearing a humongous parka indoors.

The parka was, well it was comfortable enough, fit him snugly, but it was hot, too hot even with his naturally cold temperature. Looking up, he decided to take matters into his own hands and let a jet of ice shoot up from his fingertips, freezing the leaking ceiling and preventing anymore from falling upon him. Normally he’d have been more cautious of that kind of potential for damage, but this place didn’t seem like somewhere that would be ruined by some melting ice, if anything it probably would need a flood to clear half the dregs and crust that had accumulated here.

By the time he’d gotten outside he’d regained his bearings. Walking a block or so, he noticed the averted gazes of his fellow citizens, be they upstanding ones, or those who looked a bit shadier. Either way, they all gave him a wide berth, one poor man almost getting run over by a car in his haste to cross before intercepting Len.

The parka, as expected, was interminably hot and he was tempted to let his powers go for a moment, if only to cool off, but he was in public and honestly was already drawing enough stares. When he turned a corner he heard the sound of gunfire, mentally calculating how long it’d take for him to arrive before racing off in the direction of the noise.

 

* * *

 

Barry was really starting to hate having to deal with metahumans. It wasn’t that he actually disliked the people, well, some of them he did, but others were simply annoying, like Shawna and this new guy. Cisco hadn’t even come up with a name for him yet, simply telling Barry to get going when he’d replied the guy should be coded “pain in Barry’s ass.”

None of them were sure how he did it yet, but he managed to make car alarms go off anywhere he went, and most tech to simply stop working. At first they’d suspected he had some kind of power over electricity, or even magnetic waves or something of the sort, but there few tests had been inconclusive. Now though, it seemed, he was also able to make ATMs explode.

That is, of course, where Barry would find one Leonard Snart. The fact that the man was brazen enough to walk around in broad daylight in a parka, and in 75 degree weather, only left him more irritated. Before he could deal with Snart though, he had to find this new guy, who looked to be on his way towards Len actually.

“Hey, Cold!” the guy called out as Barry sped towards a car, wanting to see what was going to happen. Barry had suspected Cold would be recruiting for his Rogues, but he’d honestly thought the man had better taste than this nutjob. Heatwave and Glider? Sure, at least they had the power to back it up, this guy just seemed like a loose cannon.

“Hey, Cisco, what about Loose Cannon?” Barry whispered into his comm, receiving a strong reprimand from Cisco for attempting to encroach upon his naming habits.

He watched as Cold looked up, face seemingly confused as he turned to the metahuman and frowned.

“Are you talking to me?” Snart asked, and Barry had the time to wonder why Snart would be wearing his parka out, but have his goggles left hanging. And his gun was nowhere in sight, Barry could see the empty holster swinging from inside the parka’s interior.

“Of course I’m talking to you? So, you change your mind about the Rogues? This enough mayhem for you?” the meta asked again, looking altogether too proud of himself. Barry was about to flash in right then, but he stopped when he heard Snart being to speak, voice angry and baring a hint of confusion.

“Look kid,” and Barry rolled his eyes, remembering that same nickname leveled at him, “I don’t know what it is you’re doing, but if you mess up my city I might just lose my cool,” Snart supplied, lips turned down into an unfamiliar frown.

The meta actually looked taken aback, looking over his shoulder at the hundred dollars bills still floating through the air and back at Cold. “I did this for you! To prove I was good enough to be a Rogue!” the man yelled, clearly agitated. When he shouted the streetlights above him flickered on and off, even though it was broad daylight.

Cold took another step forward and Barry tensed, not sure who he needed to be watching more closely. Cold so that he didn’t kill this idiot, or the meta lashing out in some way at Snart. “I’d back down if I was you kid, this isn’t going to end well for you,” Cold warned.

“Yeah? Well maybe I don’t need you after all? I bet I could even take on the Flash!” the guy boasted, flexing his muscles a bit for emphasis. Barry snickered, but Cold, Cold froze. Barry was entirely aware he’d just made that pun in his head and he hated himself a little bit for it.

“You… You think you can take on the Flash?” Snart told the man, walking a bit forward. “You know nothing about the Flash kid, you’ll get yourself killed doing that.”

“I’ll take my chances old man, just because you haven’t done him in doesn’t mean someone else can’t finish you j-“ the meta got out before he abruptly stopped speaking, hands shooting up to his mouth.

“I told you to chill out, I didn’t want to have to do this, but it’s for your own good,” Cold told the meta as he walked forward, waving his hand and then.

And then ice shot form his fingertips and encased the meta’s hands and feet.

Faintly Barry could hear the sounds of Cisco and Caitlin asking what was going on, but he was still stuck on the image of Captain Cold, Leonard Snart, icing someone without using his cold gun. Snart was a meta too? Then why did he need that cold gun?

Barry wasn’t sure if this was a recent development or not, but it was at least fitting. Before anything more could happen, like Cold freeing this guy to death, who by now was flailing about as much as he could, tongue apparently frozen to his own lips, Flash stepped out.

“Cold!” he shouted, staring the other man down. “Step away from the meta!”

 

* * *

 

That voice.

Ice ran down Len’s spine as he heard it, eyes flicking towards the man in red. His hatred was so strong bile nearly rose in his throat, only lessened by years of training, the knife in his chest reduced to a dull ache instead of a searing wound.

“Flash,” Cold seethed, puffs of air escaping with his breath, body turning cold in anticipation of a fight.

“Captain Cold, we meet again,” the Flash said, and Len stopped, quirking an eyebrow.

“Was I not aware of some kind of conscription?” Len asked, wondering what mind games the Flash was trying to play. Not now, not after all he’d done already. There wasn’t anything more this man could do to break him, not after Lisa, not after that.

The Flash, to his credit, seemed genuinely confused as well at his response, the confident smirk replaced by a more ambiguous expression.

“I mean I know it’s been a while, but how do you forget Citizen Cold? Who would call themselves Captain Cold?” Len asked.

“What are you talking about Snart?” the Flash asked, stepping closer and oh no, that was close enough.

“Move another inch and I’ll ice you Flash. I won’t hold back anymore, you know that!”

“Yeah, I think I know after the debacle at Farris Air.” Flash called back and, again, Len was left wondering what he was talking about.

Taking a more defensive stance, he decided he could chance following this argument to whatever absurd or deranged point the scarlet speedster was getting at, he’d have at least another hour before his ice caused any serious damage to his fellow meta, however idiotic the kid may be.

“Is all that running around scrambling your brains Flash? Farris Air hasn’t existed for years, you made sure of that!” he shouted.

“What?” The Flash called back, taking another step forward and that was it, Len wasn’t dealing with this, not today.

Pulling his ice back, he pushed the meta. “Get out of here, I’ll try to buy you time, you’re too young to die yet, make better choices,” he scolded him. He watched him take one look between the Flash and him and set off running.

The Flash didn’t have a chance to run after him, Len icing the space in front of him and forcing him to stop or slide. It wouldn’t hold him long, but it allowed him a moment to plan. It had been over a year since his last confrontation with the Flash and back then, back then he’d been on the heels of losing Lisa and nothing had went to plan, most days he wasn’t even sure he’d had a plan that included anything more than do as much damage as possible and hopefully get to see Lisa again afterwards.

“Since when can you do this Snart?” the Flash called, and what was with him today.

“Do you have a concussion, or are you just playing dumb to mess with me?” Len answered, icing another patch of ground before the Flash could get around to him.

The Flash shook his head, seemingly just as confused, bright sun reflecting off the deep red leather of his outfit. Oh how Len wished he could get that off him, just for a moment, ice that infernal costume and be rid of the Flash forever.

Taking a breath, he readied himself for battle.   “Come on Flash! Finish what you started! One Snart down, one to go, isn’t that what you said last time?” he yelled, voice catching on the words. IT was hard to talk about still, but it was the only thing he could do, remind Flash what he’d done, what he deserved to have done to him.

“What are you talking about Cold? Did something happen to Lisa?”

“You!” Len couldn’t take it; he wouldn’t sit by and have his sister mocked like this. The full brunt of his power surged forth, two beams of frost shooting straight towards the Flash.

He dodged, as expected, but Len no longer cared. He poured everything he had into his assault. “This is for Lisa! This is for Hartley! This is for Mick! This is for Central City itself!” he cried, blasting over and over, entire cars, street, chunks of building sent into an abrupt ice age.

Wheezing, he lost sight of Flash, only to have something whip him about the back of the head. Soon enough he was pressed into the dirt.

“Snart, what is going on with you! Stop this!” the Flash yelled, and it was almost funny how he could be this cruel, act this blaze, as if he wasn’t the villain here.

“You going to do it now Flash? Finally finish me off? Well I’m ready. Do your worst, because I promise, I’ll turn the blood in your veins to ice water if I get the chance!” he snarled, spinning to shoot straight up at the Flash, hitting him with a chunk of ice.

 

* * *

 

Barry had no idea what was going on, but Snart had apparently went stark raving mad. He thought he might have had the situation controlled, Snart’s parka hiding his face on the ground, but he hadn’t been expecting the giant ice ball that slammed into his chest. He felt like he was on fire, even with the insulation of the suit, falling to his knees.

“Snart! Snart, stop, Cold,” he panted, lungs barely able to expand with the ice covering most of his solar plexus and ribs.

“Stop? Did you stop when Hartley was black and blue? Did you stop when Mick was gasping for breath in that tornado? Did you stop… Did, did you stop when Lisa begged for you to not to kill her?!” Cold shouted, and his hands were shaky as they raised, each sentence bringing forth even more blinding pain as another limb was slowly encased in ice.

Cisco and Caitlin were screaming in his ear, unable to help as they saw Barry’s vitals dropping rapidly, freezing to death in the middle of a summer day.

“Cold, please, why… I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he tried to reason with him. He didn’t want to beg, but Cold was, he wasn’t like himself, calm, collected, cool, detached. This was fire and brimstone and frothing hatred, nothing like the Leonard Snart he knew.

“Yes you do!” Cold shouted, rounding on him now, right in his face. “Now I have you, now I have you once and for all. But don’t worry; I won’t kill you, even if you deserve it, even if nothing would make me happier. I… I have to, be the bigger man. Once I get that suit off, chip it into a million little pieces, you’ll never bother me again Flash.”

“My, m-my suit?” Barry asked, unsure if he was hearing right, or if the rapid drop in temperature was messing with his head.

Without answering, Cold launched forward, ripping his cowl off, stopping and staring at him.

“You… You’re a kid?” Cold said, voice quiet, angry, but almost terrified too, shock etched into his features.

“Cold what is wrong with you! You know who I am! Barry Allen!” he said through chattering teeth, only loud enough for him to hear. He might be about to die, but that didn’t mean he needed to be throwing his secret identity out anyway.

“How? How can someone so young be so evil?” Cold asked, and Barry honestly felt like he was in another dimension.

Another dimension.

“This is going to sound crazy Cold, but just, just l-listen for a second,” Barry began, lips turning a shade of blue usually only reserved for drowning victims. Cold hesitates, like he really doesn’t want to, but he’s clearly running on fumes now. Barry knows what it’s like expending this much power at once, and if Cold’s newfound meta powers are like his, he’s going to be exhausted.

“Don’t play games with me Flash,” Cold bites out.

“N-nn-ot! Just, listen! You, I think, I think y-you aren’t form here!”

An exasperated expression.

“I mean, you aren’t… You a-aren’t from this univ-v-verse.”

“Now you’ve really gone insane,” Cold says, grabbing a part of his cowl and freezing it before ripping it off. The faint pleas of Cisco and Caitlin cutting out.

“No! I mean it I’m not; I don’t know w-what your Flash did to you but here! Here, nothing is wrong with L-lisa! M-m-mick is fine! Really!”

A haunted expression fell over Cold’s face as he said that, but he didn’t respond, only grabbing another piece of the suit and freezing it. The man watched it crumble beneath his fingers and kept going. That didn’t stop Barry who kept going, even as piece by piece his suit was destroyed around him. When Cold kicked him hard enough to shatter the rest of the frozen suit he recoiled, curling in on himself.

“Not so tough now Flash, no super speed, no fancy suit, you’re just a normal, psychopathic little murderer, and I’ll make sure you go away at Iron Heights for a long time. Or maybe put you up on Lian Yu if Slade has the space.” Cold was gloating, but all Barry could do was lay shivering on the ground. Every word out of the man’s mouth made no sense, but the pieces seemed to be falling into place now. This had to be his fault. Not all the things Cold was accusing him of, but him being here in the first place because this? This was definitely not the Leonard Snart he knew. Because the Snart he knew would know that the suit had nothing to do with his abilities. He’d never be that unobservant.

Snart was about to reach down and grab him, but having recovered a small bit, Barry sped away, slipping on the ice and stumbling, sliding halfway down the street. It was embarrassing, but at least no one seemed to be around anymore, fleeing from their confrontation, to see him not only without his suit, but half naked and nearing hypothermia.

 

* * *

 

No, this wasn’t possible.

He’d planned this before, he’d seen bits and pieces of the schematics, he knew what the suit did. It gave the Flash his powers, without it he was just a normal man.

But if all that was true, if all the painstaking months of research they’d put in had been correct, and he knew it was, then how could the kid still be running around, albeit not very far, without the suit.

“How!?” he grit out, voice like an avalanche. His entire hands were coated in a thin layer of ice now as his anger boiled over.

The kid, Barry he said his name was, looked up at him with what he’d almost say was a bit of fear, but also determination. Neither of those things looked familiar on that face, even if he envisioned it with that familiar covering.

“I’m telling you. I’m not the Flash! At least, not the Flash you know!” the Flash shouted at him, and he didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. How could there be another Flash? One that didn’t need the suit? He wasn’t sure, but if it was true, then his only means of defeating his nemesis had just been whisked away.

“So what? You’re telling me that you’re from some alternate universe or something?” he asks, still disbelieving, but willing to at least entertain the idea, as ridiculous as it sounds. Especially since, while visually the Flash seems vulnerable, if he has his powers without his costume, then he’s still just as dangerous and quite frankly, Len is running on fumes as it is.

The Flash, Barry, shakes his head, looking at him with intense eyes. “No, I’m saying you’re from an alternate universe.”

 

* * *

 

After that bombshell a lot of things happen at once. Barry hears sirens in the distance, Cold laughs off his assertions and begins to attack him again. He speeds around the man, barely dodging icicles sharp enough to gauge straight through concrete and blocks of ice that look ripped from a glacier And before either of them know it they’ve both collapsed to the ground, their stamina depleted, enervated.

“I’ll… I’ll get you… Flash,” Cold creaks, but his voice is reedy and thin, and the last thing Barry hears before he passes out.


End file.
